The three-inch tall Great Grandmaster sighed, "Can life be relived? When mountains and rivers fade, and the red sun vanishes, it's hard to rest one's mind!"
At last, his breath was like silk, hair and beard losing luster, his spirit waned, and his blood rapidly dried, about to completely perish.
The other tiny people were the same, sitting in lotus position on wheat spikes, their breath gradually ceased.
The morning fungus doesn't know the phases of the moon; cicadas don't know spring and autumn. How many days have these tiny people been born? So quickly they have died, walked the entire journey of life.
In secret, Qin Ming was puzzled, finding them pitiful, but soon shook his head; he himself had journeyed far to the Mysterious Realm for survival, having no right to say others lived bitterly.
Moreover, mayflies live from morning to evening, enjoying it to the fullest. Though their life was short, it wasn't necessarily incomplete.
